Somebody That I Used To Know
by TinaBanina96
Summary: A part of him wishes to walk up to the musician and say hello, force something other than an impassive glance and two syllable word out of him. Another part wishes he had not come in the first place. Songverse Continuity


**Title:** Somebody That I Used To Know**  
****Author: **TinaBanina96**  
****Summary:** A part of him wishes to walk up to the musician and say hello, force something other than an impassive glance and two syllable word out of him. Another part wishes he had not come in the first place.

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**AN:** **This piece was written instead of my English ****essay. Inspired by this video: ****youtube . com**** /watch? V = dwl0CL34c8I (remove spaces) which was posted upon my Facebook wall by my friend (Christie, if you're reading this...)****. I think this probably fits into the continuity of **_**SLY**_**. Warning, this story is just... weird and I had no idea where I was going really.**

**DISCLAIMER: ****Neither Hetalia, nor 'Somebody That I Used to Know' are my property. Each belongs to their respective owners.**

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**Somebody That I Used To Know**

_Now and then I think of when we were together  
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die_

* * *

_**November 1865**_

"_You love me, right?"_

_The night air is cold and Roderich's face is pale, as he turns from the sky to look at the source of the question, who is lying on his back, propped up by his arms._

"_Why do you ask? Don't you know already?"_

_A smile tugs at the corner of Gilbert's mouth at the response. _

"_I want to hear you say it."_

"_You're such a child sometimes."_

_The brunette rolls his eyes as Gilbert sits up and stretches an arm over his shoulders. The brunette is shivering, clearly too proud to say he is cold._

"_But you still love me"_

"_No." _

_The very fact that the brunette moves in closer is contradictory to his words, as is the smile that graces the usually composed face._

"_You're lying."_

"_Never."_

* * *

_**1997**_

"Gilbert!"

Antonio is beaming as he envelops Gilbert in a hug, much to a scowling Italian's chagrin. Gilbert grins, and gives his friends a hearty pat on the back.

"Toni! I haven't seen you in forever man!"

"What are you doing here? Usually Ludwig comes to these things, not you!"

"As much as our boss hates having me here, I have to be. Baby brother is down with a cold. Feliciano convinced him to go skinny dipping, and now he has to play nurse."

Gilbert's grin grows wider as Lovino's eyebrows shoot upwards.

"Potato sucking pervert did wh- cazzo figlio di una cagna Io castrare quel bastardo..."

"No! Lovi calm down!" Antonio's sunny smile falls as soon as Lovino starts rattling of a string of profanities. Gilbert takes this as his moment to leave, laughing as the sounds of rapid Italian threats and panicked soothing phrases disappear behind him.

He runs into a lot of Nations he hasn't seen in a while (some in almost 50 years... ridiculous), catching up on the news and joking about current events.

He quickly infuriates Arthur, before the Englishman smiles sarcastically and pats him on the back, with a shout to go drinking sometime. Gilbert is surprised by this, but he doesn't show it, choosing instead to smirk and make some rude joke, which leaves the Englishman red-faced and eye-rolling.

Alfred is more welcoming, enveloping him in a hug with a hearty shout of 'sup dude, while Matthew smiles softly, greeting him with a quiet hello.

All the names and faces blur past, and he grins through it all. He is not used to the flurry of people, the constant chatter. It really _has _been a while, but he embraces it with all his charisma and energy intact.

At least, until he spots the two across the room, and his mouth goes dry. They are speaking softly, wearing contented smiles. He approaches them slowly, a feeling of obligation compelling him.

The woman is the first to sense his approach, and his eyes meet her bright green ones. Her shock is evident, but he does not expect her to practically jump on him, attacking him with an embrace.

"Gilbert!" she exclaims, holding him at arms' length. "You're here!"

"Liz, how've you been?" he is still in awe of the positive reception, having forgotten how warm Elizaveta can be, how friendly the two of them are occasionally. They're friends, they always have been, always will.

"I've been good."

She doesn't ask how he has been. She knows. The whole of Europe knows how Gilbert has been dealing with the loss of Prussia, even if it has been years, and years.

One never really gets over that sort of thing.

Elizaveta turns to the man beside her, whose smile has been snuffed out quicker than a flame on a windy day.

"Look, it's Gilbert!" there is almost a cautionary tone in her voice, wary.

"Roderich."

"Gilbert." the musician responds with a curt nod, violet eyes suddenly hard behind the steel-frames.

A stupid pregnant pause before Roderich excuses himself quickly and walks away. Gilbert's eyes follow his form as the Austrian heads towards a rather disgruntled looking Vash.

He is hit with a sense of helplessness at Roderich's lack of response. He had not thought about how the man would react to his presence at the meeting, yet... he is uncomfortable with the waves of dismissal that seemed to roll off the Austrian.

He doesn't like to be ignored, damn it.

He chats idly for a minute or so with Elizaveta, and he almost relaxes in her presence, but the aura of something left unfinished hangs in the air, and he can't help but look for flashes of purple in the crowd of mingling Nations.

* * *

_You didn't need to cut me off  
Make out like it never happened  
And that we were nothing_

* * *

He sees Roderich again later that day, just a glimpse of his elegant figure crossing the room. A part of him wishes to walk up to the musician and say hello, force something other than an impassive glance and two syllable word out of him. Another part wishes he had not come in the first place.

The meeting is spent discussing foreign trade policies between Asia and South America. Gilbert pays little attention to China's presentation, but instead finds his eyes constantly drawn to Roderich.

The musician is listening intently. His head is propped up on one arm, tilted to the left, while his right hand takes quick notes with the fountain pen clasped between his fingers. Every so often Roderich pauses and twirls the pen between his second and third fingers. Even rarer still, is the occasion when Roderich lifts the pen to his mouth, as if to chew on it. The musician catches this himself, and stops himself every time.

Just once, Roderich looks in his direction and Gilbert can see his violet eyes clear and unguarded. A ghost of a smile flashes across the musician's face before he remembers his 'composure' and looks down again.

Gilbert frowns.

When the meeting reaches the half way point and an interval is called, he notices that the musician stays in his seat, while those around him get up.

The room is almost completely empty when he decides to get up out of his own seat. There is only Roderich, himself, and a few Asian countries gathered around the doorway.

Gilbert's approach is almost clunky, and his feet feel heavy. Roderich looks up and meets his gaze, standing up as if to leave.

But he doesn't, so Gilbert speaks.

"It's been a long time."

"Not that long, for a Nation."

"50 years." A wry twisted smile, because this is déjà vu.

Roderich laughs, but the sound is bitter and emotionless.

"I vaguely recall us having this conversation before. Only our roles were reversed, weren't they?"

"We never change."

"I believe we have." the musician makes a move to walk off, but Gilbert calls him back.

"Is this all I get?"

Roderich turns, but his eyes are still cold. Gilbert can feel the ice, freezing him to the spot, unable to let go.

"What did you expect?"

"Not even a hello, how are you, where have you been the last 50 years?"

"I know where you've been."

"A little courtesy never hurt anyone."

"I believe I told you that once, Gilbert."

"Isn't it nice to know I listened?"

"What do you want from me?" Roderich frowns, and Gilbert catches the ice cracking ever so slightly, before freezing over again. So there is something there after all.

"More than what you're giving me. You're acting like you don't even know me."

"Well that's simply not true."

"Want to bet?"

"Leave me alone, Gilbert."

"Make me, Roderich."

They glare at each other, neither willing to bend. Gilbert finds himself staring into Roderich's eyes, unable to look past the wall he has built up around his emotions. He can hear the sounds of footsteps but he brushes them aside, intent on breaking down this barrier. He hates being shut out, hates this feeling that he has done something wrong, when he can't possibly have.

He has no idea what he wants, but he knows it isn't this

"Don't, Gilbert, just don't."

The words are spoken so flatly, with so little life, it leaves him narrowing his eyes in confusion and annoyance.

Roderich walks away for real this time, crossing the room slowly without a look back. Gilbert does not notice that the room has started to fill up again, that people have returned from the interval and that Francis has approached him to greet him, despite warning looks from Antonio.

* * *

_I guess that I don't need your love  
But you treat me like a stranger  
And I feel so rough_

* * *

_**November 1865**_

"_You're lying."_

"_Never."_

_Roderich is quiet as Gilbert turns his head back towards the stars. Each pinprick of light is just one of millions in the endless darkness, and for some reason the thought of being so outnumbered unnerves him._

"_It makes you feel small."_

_He can almost sense the brunette raising a questioning eyebrow at the statement._

"_The stars, I mean."_

_There is a moment of silence as they both gaze up into the sky, contemplating their own inherent worth._

"_For the record, I do love you."_

"_I believe you."_

_The smile spreads slowly across his face as he looks at the Austrian, who still looks into the 19__th__ century sky, tip of his nose slightly pink, cheeks flushed._

_But there is still a feeling of unease as he opens his mouth to ask one more question._

"_Do you promise you will love me, even if I do become... insignificant?"_

_The Austrian sighs as he brings his hand to the arm slung over his shoulders, lacing together long musician's fingers with calloused fighters ones._

"_Forever, Gilbert. Forever."_

* * *

"Is something wrong Gilbert?"

He hears Francis' voice, and sees the concerned frown out of the corner of his eye, but he does not face the blond, who has approached him. Antonio looks on from the other side of the room, concerned, but he recognises this condition, and the cause.

"Gilbert?" Francis asks again after few more moments of silence.

"Nothing." he replies as he watches the Austrian leave the room, closing the door behind him. He does not, but Francis does notice the way his right fist is clenched, nails digging half moons into his palm. Francis notices the tension in Gilbert's voice, the sense of defeat in those red eyes as he turns back to face the Frenchman.

"It's nobody."

_Now you're just somebody that I used to know_

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**Prussia was dissolved in 1947. It's my personal head canon that after the dissolution, Prussia/Gilbert isolated himself, not really venturing outside of Germany, let alone Europe, dealing with the depression and confusion of no longer being his own country. After the transitioning into becoming 'East Germany' and staying with Russia as part of the USSR, he came back to Germany after the fall of the Berlin Wall.  
I hate to make Roderich so... cold. I have reasons for his impassiveness as well, so, don't hate him... please?  
Just look at that shiny new review box. Doesn't it make you want to type something inside of it? :) **


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